


Wandering Dreams

by Sleepless_Malice



Series: Fëanorian Week 2020 [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Isolation, Memories, Nature, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: Whenever Maglor grows tired of waves, and crabs, and fish, he goes on a journey into the dense forests with its valleys, rivers, and waterfalls. That's how he finds out about the founding of Imladris.written for Fëanorian Week 2020
Series: Fëanorian Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673938
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Feanorian Week 2020





	Wandering Dreams

**Wandering Dreams**

* 

Maglor wandered – for a decade, for a century, until he lost all sense of time.

Sometimes, eyes of strangers fixated on his sinew body, tanned from too many hours spent under the sun and clad in rags. He didn’t care about their judging glances, didn’t even bother to stare back at them as he once had, for it was useless – he would not talk to them and yet he staggered, like a broken warrior after a battle. The images of those struggling to keep on fighting were etched into his mind like little else.

Whenever Maglor grew tired of waves, and crabs, and fish, he would journey into the dense forests that still cover much of the land with its valleys, rivers, and waterfalls. It was a pleasant diversion to hide under the leaf canopy from the unrelenting sun; nice to eat something else than fish. Although he dreamt of roasted deer, most often it narrowed down to rabbit stew, the dish Elrond and Elros have so much loved. Apart from that, he didn’t allow himself to think often of the twins, for each memory of them still felt like a stab to his heart.

It has been long ago when last he had visited the valley he liked best, and when he crawled along the narrow band of pebbles at the river as he always did, his way all of a sudden was blocked. Maglor’s eyes widened in surprise.

Stone walls had been erected to guide and tame the river, together with a little shelter made out of wood. He had often wondered why that valley, most beautiful of all the things he has ever seen, had remained uninhabited for so long. But then, its location was remote – and hidden. Maglor had stumbled into it by sheer coincidence in search of food.

After catching a quick glimpse into the shelter (it had a bed, a real bed and for a split second Maglor was tempted indeed!), Maglor was already withdrawing into the dense scrubs, which lined the river when voices reached him. It was his kin, those he’s been avoiding for centuries, and although they spoke Sindarin, it was strongly accented, just the way he spoke himself.

_‘We’re supposed to improve the walls further up the river on Lord Elrond’s behalf.’_

_‘Aye! But here’s better to swim. Fewer currents.’_

_‘We can swim later after the work is done.’_

Maglor tried to steady his breathing, following the line of the river with trees obscuring his view to see for what they would decide for. Just as he had expected they would, they decided for work – Elrond has taught them well, he thought.

Regardless, he would not linger here a moment longer, for too great was his fear that one of them might recognize him for who he was. Or worse: that Elrond might be among the riders who were certain to follow the scouts.

Over the course of time, Maglor has mastered hiding to perfection and could avoid being seen, even by those with eyes keen as his own, but Elrond was a different matter entirely, not so easily fooled – and dissuaded.

Before they wheeled their horses about to continue their journey, Maglor caught a last glimpse of the valley’s waterfall with its obligatory rainbow he has come to love so much. He would not return, even if he was curious what Elrond, having grown quite fond of architecture would make out of this unpolished gem.

*

That night, beneath a star-spangled sky and rustling leaves, Maglor allowed his memories of the twins he had fostered into adulthood to consume him; for Elrond, who still has his entire life ahead of him, reminded him painfully of his own dreams and wishes, those he had set ablaze the moment he had sworn the Oath.

And although Maglor had vowed never to return to the hidden valley he did. Sometimes, in fact, more often than not, he felt as if the love for Elrond was the only thing that still kept him alive.

* 


End file.
